Matched to a Prince. Kat Cantrell
This whole thing was ridiculous.
Finn had been matched with a woman who’d caused his family immeasurable misery and created a scandal that had spawned countless after-effects.
The smartest move would have been to turn around and leave without a backward glance. This was the surest method to end up insane by the end of the night.
He’d only asked Juliet to dance because manners had been bred into him since birth. This was a party. It was only polite.
But now he wasn’t so sure that was the only reason.
Seeing Juliet again had kicked up a push-pull of emotions he’d have sworn were buried. Not the least of which was the intense desire to have her head on a platter. After he had her body in his bed.
* * *
Matched to a Prince is part of the Happily Ever After, Inc. trilogy. Their business is makeovers and matchmaking, but love doesn’t always go according to plan!
Matched
to a Prince
Kat Cantrell
KAT CANTRELL read her first Mills & Boon® novel in third grade and has been scribbling in notebooks since she learned to spell. What else would she write but romance? She majored in literature, officially with the intent to teach, but somehow ended up buried in middle management in corporate America, until she became a stay-at-home mom and full-time writer.
Kat, her husband and their two boys live in north Texas. When she’s not writing about characters on the journey to happily-ever-after, she can be found at a soccer game, watching the TV show Friends or listening to ‘80s music.
Kat was the 2011 Harlequin So You Think You Can Write winner and a 2012 RWA Golden Heart finalist for best unpublished series contemporary manuscript.
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To Cynthia, because this book was so hard to write and you were there for me every step of the way.
And because TPFKAD had to be in it somewhere.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Extract
When the sun hit the three-quarter mark in the western sky, Finn aimed the helicopter for shore. It was nearing the end of his shift and, as always, he couldn’t resist dipping low enough to let the powerful downdraft ripple the Mediterranean’s deep blue surface.
A heron swooped up and away from the turbulence as fast as its wings could carry it, gliding along the air currents with sheer poetic grace. Finn would never get tired of the view from his cockpit, never grow weary of protecting the shoreline of the small country he called home.
Once he’d touched down on the X marking the spot for his helicopter, Finn cut power to the rotor and vaulted from the cockpit before the Dauphin blades had come to a full stop. His father’s solemn-faced driver stood on the tarmac a short distance away and Finn didn’t need any further clues to recognize a royal summons.
“Come to critique my landing, James?” Finn asked with a grin. Not likely. No one flew helicopters with more precision and grace than he did.
“Prince Alain.” James inclined his head in deference, then delivered his message. “Your father wishes to speak with you. I’m to drive.”
Checking his eye roll over James’s insistence on formality, Finn nodded. “Do I have time to change?”
It wouldn’t be the first time Finn had appeared before the king in his Delamer Coast Guard uniform, but he’d been in it for ten hours and the legs were still damp from a meet-up with the Mediterranean while rescuing a swimmer who’d misjudged the distance to shore.
Every day Finn protected his father’s people while flying over a breathtaking panorama of sparkling sea, distant mountains and the rocky islands just offshore. He loved his job, and spending a few hours encased in wet cloth was a small price to pay.
But that didn’t mean he wanted to pay that price while on the receiving end of a royal lecture.
James motioned to the car. “I think it would be best if you came immediately.”
The summons wasn’t unexpected. It was either about a certain photograph portraying Finn doing Jägermeister shots off a gorgeous blonde’s bare stomach or about the corruption charges recently brought up against a couple of his running buddies.
A blogger had once joked that Finn’s official title should be Prince Alain Phineas of Montagne, House of Scandal. It wasn’t so funny to the king, who had tried to combat the negative press with a royal announcement proclaiming Finn’s upcoming marriage. A desperate ploy to get his son to settle down.
Hadn’t worked so far. Perhaps if his father could actually name a bride, the ploy might get some traction.
Finn paused. Maybe his father had picked someone. He hoped not. The longer he could put off the inevitable, the better.
But